


Cowbells, Candy, Chocolate… And Arthur.

by Ramtops_Witch



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-24
Updated: 2008-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9350744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramtops_Witch/pseuds/Ramtops_Witch
Summary: Merlin never really mastered traveling through time entirely on purpose.





	

  
The first time Merlin traveled through time he was drunk. It was just after the Midwinter feast and he’d had two goblets of truly addicting spiced wine. Which is why he didn't notice for quite some time that anything had happened. To be quite honest it had seemed like a drink induced dream at the time. He still wasn't sure what happened. He had vague recollections of coloured lights, a table that he may or may not have danced on and a cowbell. He would have dismissed it all if he hadn't woken up the next morning with the cowbell tied around his neck. And nothing else on.

Which would have been bad enough if he'd woken up in his bed instead of Arthur's floor in front of the fire. He stole some clothes that needed washing anyway and snuck out before Arthur woke up. Everything was going perfectly fine until he’d run into Gwen on her way to Morgana’s. There wasn’t much chance of convincing her that he was wearing his own clothing. So he gave her a pained smile. “That wine was a bit much. Woke up in the horse trough. Apparently I’d thought I’d needed a bath and the lack of water didn’t stop me.” She’d giggled and then commented on how lucky it was that Arthur had left clothing in the stables. Merlin had naturally agreed that it was very lucky, and he made it to Gaius’s with no more close calls. No amount of lying would assuage The Eyebrow of Disapproval, so Merlin kept his gaze fixed to the floor and hurried to his room as fast as his pounding head would allow.

He never did find the clothes he’d been wearing. And since it was his formal robes he’d had to try and explain this to a far too amused Arthur. Who used it as an excuse to put Merlin in the most prattish attire he could find. Bad enough normally, but the drunk men always mistook him for a servant girl due to the fact that Arthur had seen fit to dress him in short, Roman style robes. The hat, sadly had not been lost, but rather had been hanging smugly in Arthur’s room when Merlin had woken. The hat was smug and no one could convince Merlin otherwise. Probably picked it up from Arthur. The prat.

*** 

The second time Merlin traveled through time he was not drunk, but was in the middle of a battle. One minute a giant...evil...thingy was looming over him, no hope in sight, and the next thing he knew he was in the middle of some weird...marketplace thing. He wandered around it, marveling at the odd stone beneath his feet, the lights that couldn’t be fire, and…the people! Oh the people were fascinating. He saw families, oddly dressed but still the same. Parents, children, friends. Wherever he was, some things remained the same, even if the magic that filled his veins was…shuddering at the change.

Merlin had followed a group of boys that reminded him of Arthur and his cronies for a good five minutes before he guiltily remembered that he really should be finding a way to save the _real_ Arthur. Spotting a sweet store, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out unfamiliar coins. Placing them on the counter he pointed at what he wanted and let the seller choose the correct coinage. Risky, but the best he could manage. Hopefully it wasn’t fairy gold that would vanish in the morning. He’d feel bad. While he waited for the sweets to be bagged for him he questioned the girl on where he could find salt, iron and amber, all things that should enable him to kill the…evil…thing.

He followed her directions as closely as he could understand them, sucking on the sweet hard candies, rolling them around his mouth. He managed to purchase what he needed, although many of the shopkeepers had seemed…oddly distracted. Still, this place was fun, all bright and colorful. But Merlin wasn’t sure if he approved of the magically moving staircase. It just looked like asking for trouble to him. He could take the regular stairs. His reputation for clumsiness was not _entirely_ unearned. When he had everything he needed Merlin closed his eyes and tried to will himself back where he'd been. And hoped Arthur would be too distracted to ask awkward questions.

He wasn’t. Well, he was distracted during the fight, and apparently Merlin hadn’t noticeably popped in and out of existence, but he had asked about the supplies. Merlin had come up with a rather convoluted story that had involved a present, an aspiring blacksmith who doubled as a troubadour to make ends meet, an unexpected herd of cats, suicidal chickens, ten dancing noblewomen, and a recipe for roasted pumpkin seeds. He wasn’t sure that Arthur bought it, but he seemed lost enough by the explanation that he was willing to forget the whole thing. As long as Merlin made the pumpkin seeds. Which were delicious.

***

The third time Merlin traveled through time he was drunk again. He'd spent an entire banquet watching Arthur flirt with visiting ladies damnit and he could get drunk if he wanted to. He’d stumbled drunkenly out of the hall, holding his third mug of mead close to his chest, and stumbled into a rather grungy building with a giant flying lizard that was not a dragon. He was greeted by a smoothly dressed young man, with a mug of tea. Merlin was unwilling to exchange his mead for tea. Arthur got to flirt with beautiful women, Merlin got to drink all the mead he could hold (even if it wasn’t very much). The young man was quite insistent and Merlin eventually decided that he could have mead _and_ tea. There was no law against it. And even if there was Merlin didn’t care. He was a lawbreaker! A rebel! A sorcerer! He was. And there was no need for the nameless young man to regard him with such thinly veiled amusement. He’d show the little…twerp. He’d…he’d…fireball that vicious thing attacking them both. HA!

Apparently wherever (Wales, Cardiff) or more accurately _when_ (Twenty-First Century) he was it was customary to thank people for saving someone’s life but kissing him senseless, stripping him, plunking him into the most sinful, sweet smelling bath Merlin had ever witnessed, and then plying him with affectionate…caresses. Merlin thought he could rather grow to like this First and Twenty Century. It had piles of bubbles and pretty people. He was still rather drunk though, so it was entirely possible that he was biased towards the shy girl with the odd, though lovely eyes who had given him what she called _chocolate_.

He fell asleep in a tangle of limbs.

When he woke up he was once again in Arthur's room. Mercifully at least wearing a shirt. A stiff white one with small clear buttons that weren't glass (Ianto’s). All undone. Unfortunately that was the only thing he was wearing and he wasn't going to be sneaking out this time. As even Arthur had noticed when Merlin appeared out of thin air, mostly naked, in his lap.  
  
Luckily it turned out not to be much of a problem, as all Arthur wanted at the moment was to ravish Merlin. Which gave him time to come up with an explanation. Also he got ravished by Arthur. Which was always a win. Not that he didn’t have fun in the First and Twenty Century, but they weren’t Arthur. Arthur’s hands teased the end of the shirt, where it brushed against his arse, making Merlin shiver and thrust against Arthur’s lap. This was apparently a correct response. If by correct you wanted to achieve Arthur flipping you over, straddling you, and plundering your mouth. Which was pretty much the definition Merlin adhered to. Forever and for always.

They kept the shirt. It didn’t actually fit Merlin, being too broad and too short. But Arthur liked to see him in it. Unbuttoned and otherwise nude, like their first time. They would sit before the fire, Merlin perched firmly and unerringly on Arthur’s lap. The heat of the flames would warm Merlin’s bare skin, but he still preferred to have as much of it as possible pressed against Arthur. Arthur would stroke his hair, his back, his legs. By the time he made his way to Merlin’s thighs they would be straddling him, Merlin rocking into the touch.

Merlin never told Arthur the truth about how he got the shirt. He told him about the magic and the travel. But he didn’t want to taint this with the truth. So he told Arthur that his own clothing had been damaged and he’d been given a bath. Which was mostly true.

***

The fourth time Merlin traveled through time he was having sex with Arthur. He threw his head back as he orgasmed, and then fell back as he plopped into...the same bed. He fell back against the strong, naked chest of an older Arthur. Who leered down at him. "Why hello there little boy. Are you happy to see me?"  
Merlin had blinked confusedly up at an Arthur with silver mixing in with gold. “You have a beard.”  
“So do you, nowadays.”  
“I’m not sure I like it.”  
“I suppose I’ll just have to show you it’s…benefits.”  
Merlin was very tired by the time he returned to his Arthur. Who pouted at him and insisted on...reclaiming territory. And promptly started growing a beard the next day.


End file.
